Biting Problem
by NavyPerks
Summary: Sherlock and chocolate on a non-case day were not a good combination. Not at all. The added combination of the consulting detective's oral fixation and the sugar rush he derives from the cocoa substance was enough to drive John up the walls, or rather, ran out of the flat and not ever, ever, come back. Because we have a problem Houston- Sherlock loves to bite.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock and chocolate on a non-case day were not a good combination. Not at all. The added combination of the consulting detective's oral fixation and the sugar rush he derives from the cocoa substance was enough to drive John up the walls, or rather, ran out of the flat and not ever, ever, come back. Because we have a problem Houston- Sherlock loves to bite.

It all started the day John came back from shopping. He had seen his favourite dark almond chocolate on special and decided to buy ten packets. The good doctor truly believed this amazing opportunity wouldn't come again, as the chocolate brand tended to be rather expensive. When he had come home, John immediately noticed Sherlock lounging on the sofa, an unlighted cigarette hanging between his plush lips.

"Oh no you don't!"

John acted in the spur of the moment, dumping the grocery bags onto the coffee table, pulling out when of the dark almond chocolate packets from a bag before ripping it open, breaking off a large piece, snatching the fag from a the surprised detective's lips and effectively shoving a large piece of chocolate in its stead.

"Keep that between your teeth. Hmm? It'd do you better than these" John growled, waving the offending cigarette around before throwing it in the trash. The shocked detective simply stayed still, making no move to take the chocolate out of his mouth, just watched John quietly.

John's temper was seething, and Sherlock's lack of response was not helping matters. He furled and unfurled his fists at his sides, mouth set in a straight line.

"Right… so you're not going to say anything. Okay. That's fine. Just fine." John had started to feel suffocated by his own fury and decided air was a good idea before his anger escalated even further. "Well you just stay there then. And please… eat the bloody chocolate! I'm going out" and after a crazed gesture of hands to the chocolate, John abruptly left the flat, leaving Sherlock frowning in his wake.

After about half an hour of aimless walking, John had begun to feel increasing guilty as more and more of his anger ebb away. Irrational anger, that is. The ex-army soldier let it get too much to him. He knew an apology was in order for Sherlock. Hastily, he made his way back to 221b Baker St.

John had no idea what was waiting in store for him there.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as John crossed the apartment's threshold, he called out to Sherlock, running up the steps, already in the middle of his apology when shock seized his body to a complete standstill at the living room doorway.

_Well, bugger._

Stilling cross-legged on the floor was a certain Sherlock Holmes, with a certain amount of chocolate smeared across the bottom half of his face, wrappers scattered all around him, and even more worrisome, a certain keen yet frantic look in eyes as they settled upon a bewildered John.

"Ah hello, John", the detective grinned like a Cheshire cat, licking his fingers. "Did you bring me some more chocolate?"

John's wide, unblinking eyes were his only response.

_~le half an hour ago~_

_The door slams closed. Sherlock slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, holding the dark chocolate still while he takes a tentative bite. He doesn't see why he shouldn't. After deliberating the taste for a few seconds, Sherlock comes to the conclusion that he quite likes the bitter taste it provides, almost like coffee, or cigarettes, for that matter. _

_So for five minutes, the great sleuth lounges about, eating away his piece of chocolate. He is beginning to enjoy it so much so that he actually becomes surprised when he takes the last bite, and finds it finished. _

_Looking past his empty fingers, Sherlock shifts his predatory gaze to the shopping bags still on the floor. Sliding off the couch, Sherlock makes a move to the bags, well aware that his doctor has left the rest of the chocolate in there. _

_He isn't disappointed._

_By the time he has devoured the first packet, the dopamine and sugar rush has already started to take over. And like any good addict, he reaches in for his next hit. He doesn't feel the least bit of guilt, for after all, the instructions of his good doctor are always beneficial to his health._

_~le now~_

"Sherlock what have you bloody done?!"

"Obvious isn't it?" the detective purred, "I just devoured all that fine, dark chocolate. Thank you for your advice, John. Much better than the occasional fag. Now, please tell me that you've bought more. Are they downstairs with Mrs. Hudson?" John opened his mouth to give him a good yell but then – "No, actually don't bother, I'm going down anyway, I'll get the chocolate myself"

With that, the sleuth bounced off the floor and bounded downstairs. John let him, crossing his arms, patiently waiting for the 30 seconds in which he'll see a disappointed Sherlock run back up the stairs again.

He wasn't wrong.

"JOHN"

The deep baritone bellow, bordering on desperate, came from Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. John could hear the detective frantically rummaging through their landlady's cupboards, the said lady squabbling unintelligently over the fuss Sherlock was making. John chuckled under his breath. _Yeah keep looking buddy. _Though, the doctor knew fairly well that being addicted to chocolate now, Sherlock could end up in a frenzied rage if he couldn't lay his hands on more. _Ah well, not my problem, _John thought with a nonchalant shrug.

"JOHNNN"

This time the voice was loaded with fury, dangerous even_, _and what's more,_ was heading right back up the stairs to get John. _A flood of adrenaline seized John's body at the fierce, almost savage, roar. For a split second after that, the only thing the doctor could hear was the pounding thud of heated blood in his ears. _Oh fuck, _John giddily thought as he drew a sharp intake of breath. And then -

The good doctor promptly ditched the waiting game, and ran for it.

**Are you guys excited for the next chapter? I certainly am. **

**Sorry about the shortness, a sleeping spell hit me mid-writing.**

**Update soon x**


	3. Chapter 3

John had never flown up those stairs faster in his life than he did just then. And luckily so, for if he was any slower, the raging sleuth would have surely caught up to him.

The good doctor had just enough time to bolt through his bedroom threshold, slam the door shut and lock it. A split moment later, John heard Sherlock crash into the very same door with a loud, and rather painful – sounding thud. It wasn't much of a run at all, but already John was panting lightly from the chase. Feeling light-headed from the frenzy, John let out a little giggle. He knew a locked door wouldn't hold off the determined detective for long, but it only served to raise his building anticipation. _Our little game._

A moment's silence, then –

"John" Came the low voice. He didn't sound too happy. The said doctor bit his lip from letting out further nervous giggles.

"Open the door" John clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting the impulse to burst out in laughter.

"John, don't test me. I will and can get you" The dark voice now held a slight growl. Randomly, John wondered if Sherlock still had the chocolate smeared on his face, sounding like that. The mental visual barely flitted through his mind before the ex-army doctor let go of all restraint and starting howling with laughter.

"JOHN" Forget growl, that voice was like thunder. And its owner was clearly displeased with john's amusement. Anyone else would have been running for the hills at that tone, John, however was simply spurred on, to the point where he was doubled over and could barely manage to catch a breath between the laughter.

There was a waiting pause before the voice spoke again.

"Pray tell what's so amusing John." The voice no longer sounded as dark, rather more annoyed, bordering on skulking even. John could almost see him rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Hey Sherlock-" John's voice took up a delightfully teasing tone, amidst the bubbling laughter. "Do you still have my chocolate on your face?"

"Your? YOUR choc-! Wait, wha - oh"

John resumed chuckling for a while before he realised there was no more noise on the other side of the door. Slightly frowning now, he drifted closer to the door, listening out for signs of breathing.

"Sherlock?" _What game was he playing at now?_

No answer. John grew a bit apprehensive. He decided on waiting out a few more moments before trying again.

"Sherlock?" This time a little louder.

But still no answer. The doctor huffed out a bit in anxiousness and confusion. _Wasn't he here just moments ago? Didn't even hear him leave. Not like the git to give up so easily._

He was too tempted to yank the door open and see where the bugger had gone off to, but restrained. Thus, leaving him to become steadily more wary and indecisive as he paced the short distance of his bedroom floor. _To stay in or go out? This must be a trick. _John couldn't help but feel like a mouse in a trap. _Oh god so help me if he pops out of my cupboard. _

Just to make sure, John pressed up against his door once more for any sounds of the detective. Still nothing. Suddenly, John felt his skin crawl as a thought occurred to him. Quickly, he rushed over to his windowsill, half expecting the consulting detective to be scaling the walls, like an overgrown lizard. The doctor let out a sigh of relief, seeing no one there.

But then he heard something. Something he didn't like. Something deep down, he knew was the inevitable. It was a faint clicking sound, like metal repeatedly tapping on metal. Unfortunately, John knew that sound all too well.

Slowly, the ex-army doctor turned back around to face the bedroom door, bracing himself on the windowsill. Heart was thudding heavily again, nerves rendering his left hand still, John berated himself on forgetting the most obvious. '_Stupid, John, stupid!' _He could almost hear Sherlock scoffing at him.

Just then, the door swung open and the said man was standing there in the doorway, sporting a slightly-manic grin. The twinkle in his eyes was shining too brightly for John's liking. John, who had no idea what the fuck he was going to do now.

Because John just had to forget the world's only consulting detective was the equally the world's best lock-picker.

And now he was here to get him.

Well then.

**Yes, I'm drawing this one out but it's so fun! Although I think we all know what's coming for John x**


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the alarm he felt at being confronted by the genius madman; John couldn't help but feel a note of exasperation at the sleuth's state of appearance.

_The wanker didn't even wash the chocolate off his face. _

"Joohn" The detective murmured lowly, drawing his name out.

Shaking his head, John let out a little laugh.

"How can I take you seriously with you looking like that?"

Sherlock let out a small angry growl before replying, "Oh you will."

And like a predator, Sherlock was slowly advancing towards John. _Oh man oh man oh man._

Gripping the windowsill behind him tightly, the doctor drew in a nervous breath as his eyes danced about the room, desperately attempting to find a way out of this weird mess. _Trapped like a bloody mouse._

Suddenly meeting the piercing blue eyes of his smirking pursuer, the ex-army doctor couldn't help but let out a squeak. "Sherlock?"

His only response was deep rumbling laughter. Sherlock's smirk had grown into a full-blown grin and he looked just about ready to pounce.

"Sherlock…" John started hesitantly. He cleared his throat, and was about to proceed with speaking again when –

"No, don't!"

Sherlock had lunged for him, and with army training (and, of course, luck) on his side, John efficiently dodged the grasping arms and headed straight to the door.

But not for long.

"Oomph!"

Sherlock, being lightning fast, was able to snake an arm around John's waist, pulling him to his own body, effectively stopping him. The doctor was only able to struggle against the tight grip for so long before he was roughly hauled onto the bed. _Wait, WHAT._

Bewildered, John could only stare at Sherlock. He was lying there quite rigidly on his back, and was becoming increasing confused with Sherlock's every move. Then, a rather disturbing thought flitted through his mind. _Oh god, I hope the lunatic isn't trying to engage in some kind of foreplay with me. And what weird foreplay it would be… Ok! Ok! Stop thinking! Just act! Act? Surely not like… No! No! Not _that_ kind of acting! Oh my god, what on earth am I even thinking about? What's wrong with me? Oh that's it, I'm panicking. Just panicking. _

And in his panic, John had abruptly exclaimed, "No homo! No homoooo!"

That made Sherlock pause, temporarily perplexed, before another shit–eating grin spread across his face.

"Silly John"

And then the sugar-crazed sleuth was on top of him. John tried struggling against him once more, but to no avail. His wrists were pinned down and the weight pressing heavily against his body made the good doctor incapable of moving.

"Ok Sherlock! Oh fucking ok! You proved your point! Scared me shitless too. But I know what you want. Let me go and I'll get it. Stop. Wait! Let me just get your chocolate! OUCH"

During the babbling, the consulting detective, tugging John's jacket and shirt aside, lurched forward, and with an iron grip, bit down on the doctor's right forearm. Hard. And he wasn't letting go.

"SHERLOCK WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? YOU TEETHING OR SOMETHING? GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF! ARGHH!"

John's wild bucking of his hips and screams were enough to induced Sherlock to let go. The ex-army doctor looked down on his arm and saw what already looked like to be red blotchy marks. He then shifted his gaze to stare accusingly at a hyper Sherlock.

"You bit me," he gritted out.

"Hmm yes. Yes I did. Why, take a look at that! It's already turning purple!" and upon another glance, John found Sherlock to be right, yet again. And not only that, but the chocolate on Sherlock's face had smeared over his arm too.

Seeing red, John growled. But before he could say any furious retort, he was bitten again! _Again?! _This time it was on his chest, a couple of inches above his left nipple. John only registered the sharp pain of teeth digging into his flesh before it was removed as quickly as it had arrived. However, the teeth were only transferred to a different part of his body; the areas where his neck and shoulder connected. Then his right shoulder. Left forearm. And so on. John had screamed and thrashed while Sherlock happily sunk his teeth into him, again and again. The doctor simply couldn't win; the detective's hold on him was unrelenting. It didn't stop him from making a racket though.

John all too soon came to realise that making that amount of noise attracted unwanted attention. And by unwanted attention, he meant Mrs. Hudson. The concerned lady must have heard his distressed yells and came up as soon as she could. Their landlady's footsteps could be heard entering through his bedroom doorway before an astonished, "Oh my!" was cried out.

At least that stopped Sherlock, for a little while. Sitting up, he coolly turned around to face her.

"Excuse us, Mrs. Hudson. We are quite preoccupied currently."

She looked a bit embarrassed, but oddly smug as their landlady replied, "Oh that's quite alright boys, just keep it down!" and as she turned to leave, John hurriedly shouted.

"No, wait! Mrs. Hudson! Please, please tell me you have chocolate!"

Mrs. Hudson paused at the doorway and took her time pondering. Sherlock took that opportunity to start nibbling on John's cheek- "Oh for the love of – stop that Sherlock!" -

"No, sorry boys. Seems like you will have to go about it a different way," she answered suggestively and with a wink, she left.

"Oh god no!"

"It's okay dear! You can always use honey!" She called from the bottom of the stairs, clearly misinterpreting John's perturbed exclamation.

Sherlock had at once sat up, much more swiftly than before, like a hound on a scent. He looked positively delighted and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. John, seeing this reaction and knowing what it meant, let out a groan of dismay.

"No, Sherlock"

"Hmm what?"

"That's not going to happen"

Slightly confused, he replied "What isn't?"

"You, putting honey on me. Biting me. People will talk"

Sherlock licked his lips slowly, clearly thinking about the honey, before he gazed solemnly at John.

"Let them"

Promptly, Sherlock hopped off John and made his way to the kitchen, on the hunt for honey.

"Stay there!" He ordered as he descended the stairs.

John stayed there for a moment longer before standing and moving to the door, listening in to Sherlock's movements downstairs. Noting that Sherlock was probably too busy looking for honey to hear him, John proceeded to stealthily move down the stairs. _You can do this Watson, just think of your army training. Focus on that. _

John made it to the landing, and was just about to go down the next flight of stairs when a deep voice froze him in his tracks.

"John?"

Cautiously, John spared a glance towards the direction of the voice and was met with a pair of bright eyes, keenly trained on him. Sherlock was standing beside the fridge, paused mid-opening it. _Oh Sherlock, you idiot, we don't keep the honey there. _John fleetingly thought, fond of the detective's domestic naivetés. But that all changed when the sleuth's expression narrowed and he started towards John.

With a sharp jolt, the doctor realised he had been caught sneaking away, and fled down the stairs.

"John!" He heard snarled behind him.

But John didn't stop. He yanked open the apartment's door, and left it open as he ran down the street. He will not have Sherlock biting him anymore.

"I'm outta here man!"

"Where are you going?!" Sherlock boomed from the doorway. _Not in pursuit then. Thank god._

But still, John kept running as he shouted over his shoulder,

"To get you more chocolate you complete and utter tosser!"

**Wow. That took longer than expected. But still so fun.**

**So did John's inevitable end meet your expectations? **

**Won't exactly end here, I'm planning on writing an epilogue x**


	5. Epilogue

**Sorry guys for the lack of update, I was travelling a bit around Europe for my study tour. Anywho, now I'm back and am planning to make up for the time lost.**

**So yeah epilogue it is!**

**(PS I had a read through of the previous chapters so I didn't miss out on any important story details… and omg I don't even know what kind of mindset I was in for the last chapter! I must of been REALLY hyperactive to be writing about mildly sexual content and psychopathic-like character behaviours (aka Sherlock). I couldn't stop laughing at my own idiotic writing. So guys, sorry about that and any confusion it may have elicited:) )**

**Now let's move on!**

John hadn't gone immediately to the shops. He felt like he needed some mental therapy before he can face normal life again. Taking out his phone, he hastily texted Lestrade if he was available for a beer or two at the pub. After all, who better psychiatrist than the one man who knew Sherlock almost as well as John?

Half an hour later, John found himself sitting in the pub, clutching his pint as he recalled the slightly - manic events of the past hour to a laughing detective inspector.

"Did he actually bite you?!" Lestrade asked disbelievingly through chuckles. "Like a true (he lightly clamped his teeth down twice) bite?"

John sighed, embarrassed. "Yes, yes he did", which only spurred Lestrade further into giggles. _Better to talk about it now than have him find out about it later. Just hope Scotland Yard won't hear about this._

"The things you let that man do to you! Ah, if only I was there!"

"You really wouldn't want to be"

"I would have recorded it all on my phone! What a shame!" But with a glower from John, the inspector quickly changed his attitude. "Nope! Just kidding mate, would never do that"

John threw him a knowing smile. "You have a whole folder in your phone dedicated to embarrassing videos of Sherlock and myself."

"Yes I do actually." Lestrade grinned mischievously, but he left it at that. "So, what are you planning to do with Sherlock now?"

"Well, I promised him I'd buy him chocolate but I don't think that's a good idea" John replied grimacing. "I'll buy it anyway, better he bite into it than me."

Three hours later, when it was late evening, John returned back home again. Tentatively, he stepped into the flat, left hand gripping a shopping bag full of dark chocolate. The living room light was on and everything looked normal... so far.

Sighing, John made his way to the kitchen to put his newest purchases away and make himself a calming cup of tea. There was no sign of the mad detective anywhere. It was only when John had just poured the water from the kettle into his prepared mug did the door to Sherlock's room swing open and in walked the man himself.

Slightly startled, the doctor held himself rigid while maintaining wary eye contact with the sleuth. Sherlock simply looked at him back, somewhat reserved. Noticing the man's lack of his previous zealousness, John took an audible gulp before speaking. "So then, are you back to… you?"

The consulting detective must have been holding his breath, for now it came out in a sudden gush along with his words. "Yes, yes I am."

John, not knowing exactly how to act now, nodded absently before he noticed something different about Sherlock. "You've changed your suit."

Surprisingly, the man actually looked sheepish before replying, "Well yes, it most necessary."

"Necessary?" John frowned. "How exactly were you able to come to yourself again?"

"I beat up a corpse at Bart's"

"Ah that explains it" Eyebrows raised, John had a funny expression on his face. "So no biting the corpse then?"

The sleuth's face passed a look of repulsiveness before replying, "Why, of course not!"

"Just checking"

Sherlock then suddenly looked embarrassed and unsure of himself. "Um. Sorry about that. Before. Um, that was a bit not good" One of Sherlock's hands had reached up to absentmindedly play with his curls as he mumbled his apology. Looking down, he chanced a glance at his flatmate to gauge his reaction.

However, John was too used to Sherlock's eccentric ways to hold anything against him, especially on the rare occasion when the detective realised and apologized for his own mistakes (that is, without John needing to make him!). "It's… a bit not good. Yes. But I forgive you."

The good doctor smiled seeing the immense relief on the detective's face at his words. His smile grew even wider when he next said, "But no chocolate for a month."

Sherlock immediately pouted. "Two weeks"

"...Fine."

Although despite the ban, John still took precautions to stealthily hide all the chocolate he bought inside food pots, believing the lack of interest in food will keep Sherlock from actually needing to cook something. Of course the maddening detective still found them, but he decided to play fair and wait until the two weeks were over (but in all honesty, he really couldn't risk experiencing another chocolate-induced, biting episode or he'd pretty much be banned for life).

All was well and back to normal - with the exception that Mrs. Hudson was now adamantly convinced her boys were in a very gay relationship. But people always loved to talk though, didn't they? Well, at least it was better than biting!

**Soo, that, my friends, is that! Hope you've all enjoyed and thank you to all those who've reviewed. You guys were the biggest source of inspiration for my little whacked-up story!**

**Currently, I'm in the production process for some angsty Johnlock, for all you Johnlock shippers out there. It would be the first I'm going to take completely seriously and put heart and soul into. So please, stay tuned! **

**~Navy Perks**


End file.
